Write a story that ends with the statement: It was indeed a help from above

THE STRANGER IN THE STORM

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It was 6:30 p.m. when Kelechi left the public library, holding tightly to his worn-out bag filled with borrowed textbooks. Dark clouds hovered above, and the wind whispered of an approaching storm. He had stayed longer than planned, trying to finish his science assignment due the next morning.

As he hurried along the quiet road leading to his village, the first drops of rain began to fall. He picked up his pace, but the sky soon broke loose. Heavy rain poured, lightning flashed, and thunder roared. He was still three kilometers from home with no shelter in sight.

Drenched and shivering, Kelechi regretted not heading home earlier. His sandals kept slipping on the muddy path, and the weight of his bag slowed him down. He could hardly see through the curtain of rain, and the occasional headlights of passing motorcycles did nothing to help.

Then the worst happened, he tripped and twisted his ankle. Pain shot through his leg, and he fell into a puddle. His bag slipped off his shoulder, landing in the mud. He cried out, but no one answered. The road was empty.

He tried to get up, but the pain was too much. Tears streamed down his cheeks, mixing with the rain. “God, please don’t let me be stuck here all night,” he whispered through chattering teeth.

Just then, a car approached. It slowed down and stopped beside him. The window rolled down, and a middle-aged woman peered out. “Are you okay, my son?” she asked.

Kelechi tried to respond, but only a sob came out. Without hesitation, the woman stepped out with an umbrella, helped him to his feet, and guided him into the back seat of the car. Two young men were in front—her sons, as he later found out. They wrapped him in a dry cloth and gave him warm water from a flask.

She drove him straight to the health center near his village. The nurse on duty treated his ankle and reassured him it was only a mild sprain. As the woman prepared to leave, Kelechi managed to ask, “Why did you stop for me?”

The woman smiled and said, “Because I saw someone who needed help. That could’ve been my own child lying there.”

Kelechi nodded, tears returning—not from pain, but from gratitude. The woman left without even asking for thanks or giving her name.

That night, as Kelechi lay in bed, ankle bandaged and heart full of wonder, he told his mother everything. She hugged him tightly and said a prayer of thanks.

As he drifted off to sleep, Kelechi whispered the words from the depth of his heart:

It was indeed a help from above.

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It was a bright Monday morning when I Ieft the house for school. I was running late, and in my usual hurry, I forgot my wallet. That day was different, it was the first day of our WAEC examination. The subject? Mathematics. My worst nightmare.

As I rushed into the school compound, I could feel my heart pounding. Not because of the exam, but because I hadn’t revised properly. I had planned to study over the weekend, but our generator broke down and I couldn’t afford to go to a café. So, I was relying on my class notes and prayer.

When the papers were shared, my hands trembled slightly. I stared at the first question, it was familiar. It was one of the examples our teacher, Mr. Oladipo, had solved last week! My confidence grew. I flipped to the second page — another familiar topic. As I moved through the questions, I realized most of them were from areas I had casually gone through just the night before.

But then something happened. Midway through the exam, my pen suddenly stopped working. I shook it, hit it against the desk, but nothing came out. I panicked. I had no spare pen, and the supervisor was standing far away. Time was ticking.

Suddenly, I felt a soft tap on my back. It was Halima, the quiet girl who sat behind me. Without saying a word, she slipped her extra pen into my hand. I turned around to thank her, but she just smiled and pointed to the paper, urging me to continue. That act alone saved me.

After the exam, I rushed to thank her properly. That was when she told me something that left me speechless. She said, “I actually forgot my own pen at home today, but something told me to carry an extra one. I didn’t know it was for you.”

That moment taught me two things: always be prepared and never underestimate the power of kindness. If she hadn’t listened to that voice in her heart, I might not have completed my paper.

Fast forward to the release of results, I passed Mathematics with a B3! It was my highest score ever in that subject. That pen, that smile, that simple act of help — it changed everything.

When I knelt down to thank God that night, I remembered Halima’s words and all that had happened. There was no doubt in my heart as I whispered with a grateful smile, “It was indeed a help from above.”

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